


Fire and Steel

by Curiaso



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Sex, But is still an asshole, F/M, Harry is a Little Shit, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Jealous Severus Snape, Mean Severus Snape, Rating May Change, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Severus Snape Lives, Sexism, as always, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-13 18:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9135967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curiaso/pseuds/Curiaso
Summary: Severus Snape regrets surviving, regrets staying at Hogwarts, and damn does he regret this woman.OrAgrippine comes from France to Scotland to teach Transfiguration- where a certain Potions Master has a heart in need to infiltrating. A 'I have no one else, so I suppose you will do' love story.





	1. Chapter 1

She came in with a flounce, a bounce, and with no haste; and it drove Severus mad. Blonde, tall, and sturdy, dressed with such perfect accuracy for impression and weather that it made him itch with irritation, Agrippine arrived at Hogwarts a week before the students would, along with all the rest of the teachers. Her luggage bobbed behind her in the air, her hair in motionless waves (so covered with Mrs. Margin’s Hair Fixture, not a strand dared to be out of place). The perfection of her, the rows of buttons along the sides of her light summer robes, and the precise click of her white sandals made his gums ache with annoyance. She was immaculate, and Severus didn't think he could hate her any more than he already did. Then she opened her mouth and began spouting introductions in flawless English, with a French accent just heavy enough to charm, and Severus was proven wrong. She would make a shit professor, he was sure of it, and while he sneered at her now, he banked he would be delighted at her failure in future.

But perhaps we should back up. 

Minerva was adamant about being headmistress. “Albus would have wanted it this way, and besides, Transfiguration is becoming one nightmare after the next of children turning teapots to mangy cats, and I am absolutely finished I tell you.” She moved up into the late headmaster’s quarters immediately. 

“You’ll stay of course, won’t you?” She asked with questioning eyes over a steaming tea-cup, behind her absurdly small spectacles. Severus half wanted to spit in her face. Where else was he meant to go, the cow should realize he was stuck here. Sure, he could brew for a living, but frankly people weren't too kean on buying potions from a wizard they still suspected to have some Death Eater sympathies, and potioneering law demanded open and honest admission of potion master's names when selling any self brewed products. Severus could write, but who would sign him for such a thing? No one wanted the name of a murderer on their bookshelves anyhow. And yes, he could retreat into the muggle world, but what sort of rubbish idea was that? Go live with the muggles, and forget everything, find a nice little cottage, and buy a dog. What absolute trash. 

“Of course I’m staying. Though I will be taking up the Defense position.” He spoke monotone, figuring Minerva likely didn't much care for his expression of outrage at her despicable questioning. She pursed her lips, but nodded. 

“I suppose I will have to find a few new teachers than. I rather thought Potter would like to take the Defense position-” Severus’ hand twitched toward his wand to send something nasty her way, but he resisted, “-you know after he’s graduated, but he wasn't fond of the idea to my surprise. So yes, you may absolutely take the role Severus.” He huffed out in agreement, internally grateful, with just the barest undercurrent of scorn.

But perhaps we must go further. 

“Severus Tobias Snape is given atonement for crimes committed in this war, on the ground he did all in the name of the good, and under persuasion of Albus Dumbledore. Furthermore, Severus Snape shall be given the highest honor of Order of Merlin, First Class.” Shacklebolt spoke loudly. Severus stared up at him, and felt a sort of hateful boredom boil within him. 

Potter had come with all the evidence of Severus’ supposed innocence, had splayed memory after memory before the courts as if they weren't private, and treasured. As if Severus had not clutched them till he could no longer do so, as if they meant little. Frankly, Severus would rather have been thrown into Azkaban for the rest of his life, tortured to insanity, made to pillage and rape a thousand towns, before letting anyone see those memories who did not absolutely have to. And so, when Potter had done such a thing, Severus had been furious, had been held back from murdering Potter with his own two hands, and putting bloody Voldemort to shame. But by now his anger had abated, and was replaced with the sort of quiet fury one holds toward someone they have not and never shall like. 

He sat and watched, and after that, didn't smile as the gold pin was stuck unto his robes, as his hand was shook by many an official hand, as he walked out, cameras flashing in his eyes to the point of temporary blindness. He ignored the plea for interviews, and apparated to his house as soon as he was able, where he destroyed his furniture and fixtures, till there was nothing left. So lost in a fit of rage was he, his own wand was nearly snapped in the rampage. This very close call snapped him back into reality, and had him panting heavy breaths as he stood in the middle of the now dusty room. He did not smile, as he methodically waved his wand into fixing the splinters and shattered bits of his home, and he did not smile as he sat in his armchair, and considered what he was meant to do with praise, when all he’d been handed all his life was hate. The gold pin on his breast gleamed, forgotten.

But still, farther. 

“We don’t know when he’ll awake, but we believe he managed to neutralize the venom somehow. Hopefully we will know more when he awakes.” the silent ‘If he awakes’ left the still half asleep Severus rather put off.

‘Of course I’ll awake, I always do, and it’s always terrible, don’t you realize that my life is nothing but managing to survive ridiculous spectacles of danger, and then remembering all at once I didn't want to achieve such a feat in the first place. For Merlins sake, some venom is nothing! It is a picnic, a walk in the park, nothing! Fuck you, you useless sack, you’ve likely never survived anything but your mother's womb!’

He wanted to say this, but his throat burned something terrible, and when his eyes sleepily blinked open and shut again, he didn't think the people there would much care to hear what he had to say. They interrogated him for hours and hours, and it left him wishing he had his wand so he could hex these idiots, and teach them what a real Healer is meant to do. As soon as they had his neck half repaired they let the Aurors take him away, and he still couldn't shout what he wanted to- all he could do was follow without question and wish he’d died like God likely intended him to do. 

And this, is far enough. Now back to the current. 

Eventually Agrippine’s hand reached his own. Soft, and larger than was considered delicate, she shook with a confident force. Snape sneered, but forced out pleasantries nonetheless. 

“Lovely to make your acquaintance Professor Snape. I am Agrippine Leveque.” Close as she was now, Severus took account of her facial features. Sharp cheekbones, and flesh pale in the extreme, with blue eyes, she reminded him very strongly of the Beauxbatons girls who had come to Hogwarts in years passed, at the dreadful tournament. 

“And you.” He spoke shortly, struggling not to push her away from him. A pretty fool was what she was, he was sure. Why Minerva had chosen an imbecile as a teacher he could not decipher, but as he sat down for a late lunch with the rest of the teachers, he resolved that it wasn't his problem. He didn't have to be involved with the Transfiguration classes at all, so what trouble this new Professor Leveque caused, he would not have to worry.


	2. Chapter 2

The welcoming feast was, impossibly, even grander than it had managed in the past. An end to the war, as well as celebration of the newly repaired building had, in the eyes of most of the professor's, been enough to warrant extra work for the house elves. The tables were covered with a preposterous amount of food as well as drink, and Severus caught himself wishing he’d left the hell he called a job while he had been able. The noise level in the Great Hall began to steadily increase, along with the ache in his skull. 

Clearly his lack of jollity had been noticed, as Minerva scolded him, her elbow nudging at his arm, “Oh Severus, cheer up!” He scowled at the words. “The war is over, for good this time, we have won, and the students are safe! This is meant to be a merry time.” He noticed her voice getting progressively tight as she spoke, and as he glanced into her eyes, he found them to be watery, and filled with memories. “Albus would have wanted it this way.” Minerva turned back to her steak and potatoes.

Severus, of course, could not bother to give a damn. The Headmaster had been a friend (or at the very least, someone Severus had spoken to on a regular basis about a variant of subjects) and the Headmaster had been Severus’s savior in as many ways as he had been his enslaver. Severus was abundantly aware that he had been made use of during the war, and so the emotion he felt towards Albus’s death felt loose and murky. He could never forgive the man for forcing Severus’s hand in playing the executioner. In some respects, Severus felt their relationship had been a farce made only to defeat a common enemy. He was sure that had the Dark Lord never risen to power, he would not have been even vaguely related to the late headmaster. Albus was not the type of man Severus pictured himself hanging about. In fact, Severus rather thought he could not see himself having anyone to ‘hang out’ with what so ever, now that the war was over. His life had consisted of Death Eater meetings, and Albus’s convoluted mind game chats for nearly five years. Friends had never been a top priority.

From down the table a raucous laugh could be heard. The new professor was catching a lot of attention. When he had seen her robes he had scoffed. Fitted, the kind witches preferred in Italy, with intricate silver embroidery surrounding the hemming, and bodice. It was quarter length, with trousers under and shoes that made no sense to be wearing in a school. Heels? Honestly. His lip curled at her. She didn't seem to notice, as she continued telling her insipid story. 

“Oh, Agrippine you're so-ahaha-” Filius chortled as the new Professor beamed down at him. It stood to reason that the Transfiguration and the Charms Professor would have things to talk about. It stood to reason that they would become friends. Just as it stood to reason that the Defense and Potions master should get along. He glanced down the table at Slughorn who was grinning just as stupidly at Leveque. The aging man had agreed to stay for one more year, as they had been unable to find a replacement. He had yet to speak to Severus, or even look at him. Most people, Severus found, did not look at him. Severus ignored the feeling of hollowness that filled his chest. 

Looking over at the Gryffindor table Severus found Potter and his idiotic pals smiling at one another like buffoons. They had impressed him to some degree during the war, keeping well hidden, but it had been at least thrice that Severus had had to push them in some way during their time of disguise. Granger was a large help to the boys, Severus was sure. Despite never admitting it, he was well aware she was the brightest witch of her age. Potter and Weasley on the other hand, were not. He was sure they would be once again up to their shenanigans. 

“Severus. Stop ruminating and relax!” Minerva’s elbow connected once more with his rib cage, and Severus made a mental note to never sit beside her again. She had terrible table manners. 

~0~

The halls left his ears ringing, so silent and dark were they. His footsteps nothing on the stone floors, the tall man ghosted. Severus had always enjoyed patrolling the halls. It was one of the few times where the castle was fully silent, where he saw the past projected on the back of his eyelids without pain or shame. Old shadows of his teenhood, the late night wondering he so often punished children for now had been his most treasured past time in his younger days. A time when the busy worry of love for Lily, the fear of never being heard by anyone, the knowing of pain to come when returning home; all went quiet and peaceful. 

He kept a steady pace, his robes draped in what he managed to pull off as elegant waves. The first term of school had passed without much trouble. Potter had been suspiciously silent. He gave little to no cheek in class, and now that Severs no longer had to keep up a pretense of constant aggression, he found it easier to hate the boy passively. Aside from the occasional bared teeth and snarl, Severus kept his rage at the little fool to a light simmer. It was a blessing to be frank, to be rid of the responsibility of the child. Severus found, more and more, that the James Potter look alike hurt less and less to look at. The green eyes still made him ache with lost chances, but now that he’d seen them right next to an Avada Kedavra spell, he began to see the differences in shade to Potter’s eyes, and Lily’s. He began to notice the way Harry seemed to be neither of his parents at all, but his own infuriating, idiot self. Severus would never like the boy, but now he could honestly say he hated him for who he was, and not for who his parents had been. 

Everyone and everything in fact, was easier to handle. There was of course the occasional troublemaker, but the war appeared to remind students and teachers alike that conflict and rule-breaking was not worth the stress. They were still absolute dunderheads, they still made gray hairs sprout at Severus’ temples like daisies, but it seemed far easier to manage when not also playing the part of spy and secret keeper. Perhaps, he reflected, that was why he found it easier to deal. Less concern over how he might end up dead the next minute. He still worried of course. People roamed all over, the people whose family had been stripped viciously from them by fellow Death Eaters. People who were hungry for revenge, and thirsty for any blood they could get their tongue around. People who called him a traitor to the cause. Severus still planned in advance how to react to a sudden attack, still kept potions in the folds of his robes, and his wand close to hand; but this was his way of life. This constant paranoia was how he had managed to survive, and it was ingrained in him as deep as his magic. He doubted he would ever lose the vigilant quality war had sewn into his very being.

One who was not vigilant was a fool. And no fool was Severus Snape. The fool was Professor Leveque. The students, unsurprising, loved her. Phrases such as, “She’s so nice.” “She gave my an extension on the spell practice!” “Professor Leveque helped me with my essay for Charms, maybe she’ll help you too!” All over the castle, the students tittered with the new Professor's name. Idiot woman, being too kind. The students were using her, couldn't she see? Severus was sure that the woman would lose all energy and patients to accommodate the children like this forever. She’d snap eventually, and the students would see that this facade of perfection she put up was all fallacy. He was sure of it. If part of him danced in delight at the idea of her failure, than that was no one's business but his own. 

All the while Severus walked, someone watched. From the shadows sharp eyes followed, and kept lips locked. Aggrapine knew this man was one of complicated wire and barb. Her fingers itched to take the thorny man and unwind his tangles till a simple loop of him was left. She felt it all over, the urge to open him into nudity, into weakness. To peel back his rough skin, and program him to bare his throat to her, if only to have it ripped out in betrayal. She had no bone to pick, it was not revenge she sought. The war had had little effect on her, as neither family nor friends lived anywhere near the battle areas. No, the reason Severus Snape held such appeal was the way she’d feel if he trusted her enough to open himself to her. The feeling of power and lust and excitement to be garnered from seeing him like that. Open and tired and weak and malleable, but never broken, or bent. Ready. Pleading. Wanting her. 

She began to walk, acting as if she too was looking for misbehaving students in the halls. His head snapped towards her, his hand twitching instinctively towards his wand, How had he not heard her before? She wore heeled boots for Merlin's sake.

“Ms. Leveque. I was unaware you had elected to be on patrol tonight.” Even his voice, as deep as it was, bore spikes. She nodded with only the smallest of smiles. 

“It was a good night to wander, no?” She joined his step. They were of equal height, so his stride and hers matched well. “And besides, I heard rumors all day of a Ravenclaw couple planning a closet escapade.” She spoke lightly, an amused glint in her eye. 

Who was this woman? Severus thought suddenly. French, and educated...but who? And why had she come here? Every snob of a Beauxbatons girl had claimed that Hogwarts was an uncivilized pit of wizarding waste. So why would she be any different? The fact was, she likely wasn't. His permanent sneer deepened. 

“Hmm. I do not bother listening to the drivel my students spew. They tend to be filled with untruths, in my experience.” 

“Yes, I suppose so. I have yet to see a Ravenclaws robes pooled on the ground. Perhaps you are correct.” The imagery left Severus a bit perturbed. Most of the teachers would have died before saying something so suggestive. Then again, most of the teachers were over 70 years old. He kept a mask on, but internally he was sorting through the emotions of having Ms. Leveque join him tonight. He enjoyed his solitary walks, and having company felt discomforting-- like a shoe that had been placed on the opposite foot. Implicitly wrong.

“And neither have I. You may rest assured no idiot seventh years will be copulating tonight. Feel free to go to bed.” He made no effort to hide the dismissal. 

With a smile, Aggrapine turned about face. As she began walking back, Severus could not help but notice the pert ass, dressed in a pair of currently fashionable muggle pants. After the war, more and more wizarding kind had adopted some articles of muggle fashion. It was an attempt to prove to themselves as much as others that they disagreed with the late Dark Lord. A political statement in the form of clothing. At the moment, Severus found himself fond of the trend, as it gave him quite the eyeful. He forcibly drew his eyes away.

“Who said anything about seventh years?” She was gone before Severus could come upon a response. Pert ass or not, she was still a fool. And no quality of body could compare to quality of mind. He still held onto the belief that she was an empty vessel of uselessness…. But doubts were beginning to creep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, leave a Kudos! If you don't want to loose this fic, and you'd like to keep up with it, Bookmark. And if you could, Comment below (it really does make my day!) Thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> I know its not long, but they've met! If you enjoyed (and want to prove it) consider dropping a Kudos, or perhaps even a Comment. And if you want to keep track of this story, you can Bookmark so you'll always know when new chapters are posted!


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